His eyes go round. For a minute, he looks like the kid I met on the mountain all those years ago. Big eyes and a round helmet.
“You . . . you do?” he stammers.
I could pretend I’m psychic. Tell him we’re best friends with no secrets.
But I’ve kept so many secrets. And that ends now.
“I do,” I say slowly. “Because you told me the night before your accident. You said you were in love with me. Austin, I’ve known for months.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Now would be a reallygood time for the chairlift to start moving again. Austin is staring at me like he’s never met me before. Or like I’m speaking in a foreign language.
“Did you hear me?” I ask, voice strained. “I said?—”
“I heard what you said.” He works his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s a nervous gesture. “I...I told you?”
The question is heartbreaking, just like his face. I shouldn’t have said anything. Would it have mattered if I’d gone along with his confession a second time? The ending would be the same, wouldn’t it?
Only not really. He may not remember, but I do, and I can’t pretend.
The chair shifts as he scoots farther away again, creating space between us. I let him have it. There was a while this summer where I convinced myself his amnesia or trauma or whatever this is was all an act. That one of these days he was going to text or call and let something slip or go “Surprise!” then reveal that he’d remembered everything, the same way I still do. But he never did, and that sort of thing probably only happens in movies anyway.
“I was going to tell you,” Austin says finally. He sounds like he might cry.
“After the games. I know. You said that too.”
He blinks a few more times, then goes back to picking at his gloved fingertips.
“Is that why you’ve been . . . the way you’ve been?”
Ugh, that’s a complicated question. “Partly. Sort of. There’s a lot. Adi and I have talked about?—”
“You’ve been seeing the psychologist?”
“Yeah? Haven’t you? You went through some major shit.” I want to wrap my arms around myself protectively. Haven’t we all been through some shit? That’s what Adi says. If they made me talk to her and he didn’t have to, I will be pissed.
On the slope below, a ski patrol is snow plowing his way down the mountain, stopping to shout something at the people in the chair a couple ahead of ours. They shout back and he slides down to us. His words are loud but unclear.
“What?” I ask, leaning over the bar and cupping a hand to my ear, even though that won’t help, since when he repeats himself, it’s clear he’s speaking in Italian.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “English. Canada.”
He pauses, hands planted impatiently on his hips. “There is no electricity,” he says. “We fix. You wait.”
As though we were doing anything else? But he doesn’t stick around for an answer, only continues on down the hill toward the next occupied chair.
“Well, that’s just great,” I say, slumping back in my seat. If the power’s out, we could be here a very long time. Like, hours. It’s getting cold up here.
I’m about to crack a joke about huddling for warmth. Since the genie’s out of the bottle—or the cat’s out of the bag—surely Austin won’t mind...
Shit.
I haven’t told him everything, and if he doesn’t remember saying he loves me, then what comes next might be an even bigger shock.
“How are you feeling?” I ask carefully.
